[Dez] Rights of an Amari Heir

[Sparky]

[Refs]

SPOILER: Click to show

Spell name: Electric Field Sense
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 2
Function: The caster senses the electric fields of all life around them, sensing out hidden foes and tracking onto them even while blinded. The stronger the affinity, the further away a caster can sense their target, increasing by 4 meters per affinity level.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Speed Enhance
Spell Main Element: War
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 4
Function: The caster enhances their speed, being able to move faster and strike faster. When this effect fades, their body becomes fatigued. The higher the enhancement of the speed, the shorter duration in which it's boosted, along with a larger physical drain as such. Can only be applied to caster.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Command the Storm
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 5
Function: The caster harnesses raw electricity from either themselves or from outside sources and focuses it into one, powerful lightning bolt attack. This ability requires intense concentration, and any falter can cause the attack to fly off wildly in a different direction, or descend into a shattered collection of random, barely effective shocks. The attack is more likely to hit if the target is wearing conductive metals.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Strikedown
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 4
Function: The user channels their magic and focuses on a target for lightning to come from the sky and strike onto the enemy. Lightning it more guaranteed to strike an opponent wearing conductive metals, are airborne, or are in high places compared to the caster.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Lightning-step
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 3
Function: Lightning by it's nature is sudden, striking faster than the mortal mind can comprehend. A lightning mage harnesses that raw energy into themselves, tapping into the raw potential of the element they control. The caster of this spell snaps from one point to another, traveling like a bolt of lightning and leaving the sound of thunder in their wake. This ability can be used in rapid succession, but cannot be used over long distances. Using this ability too much risks causing damage to a mages musculature, and can tear tendons should they not be properly conditioned for it.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Thundercrash
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 5
Function: Focusing on collecting a massive amount of raw energy, the caster draws lightning into the palm of their hand and point blank blasts a target with an eruption of electricity, blasting through defenses in a vicious display. While immensely powerful, this ability has little to no range, and is ineffective outside of close combat.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Eviscerate
Spell Main Element: War
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 5
Function: The user floods their weapon with raw war energy, using it to utterly shred through their target brutally. This is a ferocious and barbaric spell, neglecting any sort of refinement for pure, unrestricted violence. Many casters wind up coating themselves in the viscera of their victims, and only those who dedicate themselves to the art of slaughter have been known to utilize this skill. 
Availability: Open

Spell name: Lightning Bolt
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 5
Function: Harnessing lightning into the palm of their hand, the caster hurls a bolt of electricity at a point of their choosing, spearing anything caught in the bolt's path. While this spell can be freely aimed, it is more likely to hit if a target is wearing metal on them.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Overload
Spell Main Element: Lightning
-Spell Sub Elements: N/A
Affinity Strength: 7
Function: Caster supercharges themselves with electricity, putting as much power as they can into a 15 meter AOE burst, launching out a wave of electricity that can easily put anyone caught in it out of commission. However, using this ability recklessly can put the caster themselves out of the fight as well, either falling unconscious or finding themselves unable to move or continue.
Availability: Open

Spell name: Ball Lightning
Spell Main Element: Lightning
Affinity Strength: 4
Function: The caster amasses electricity into the palms of their hands, forming orbs of lightning which they can hurl towards their enemies. These orbs can cause severe harm to anyone directly hit by them as well as shorting out any nearby electronics. Skilled lightning mages, with proper training and timing, can even cause these spheres to detonate in a small radius of electricity, much like a grenade.
Availability: Open

Total Words: 4400

    From birth, expectations for Dez were high. Unlike his siblings, the young Amari had been born beloved by his respective element. By his lineage. With crystals blossoming from his fingertips before his eyes ever opened. He was special. He was powerful. The Amari line always bore great fruit. Heroes and adventurers of all creeds. So of course, there was a lot of live up to right from the start. But a youth with such masterful skill so soon was a rarity. Directly descended from heroes of legends, Dez's parents saw him as the next, rightful heir to their clan. 

    In his young age, he was trained to hone and master his abilities. The family magic; Crystallokinesis. Each other student envied him. His control. The ornate beauty of his creations. How easy it was for him. Almost as natural as breathing. Whatever his mind wished for, his hands created them. Formed and bent the raw fragments to his will. Smoothed them to perfection. Dez was the pride of his parents. The Pride of his whole entire clan. Such skill hadn't been seen in centuries. Even his grandparents, practiced masters in their own right, hadn't been able to attain the level of beauty Dez had. 

    Showered with praise, of course a child would adore the attention. But that's when the seeds began to settle in. The first inklings of something wrong. Eyes upon him at all times. Day or night, no matter when. Always training. Always praised. Always watched. Honeyed words of how brave he'll be. How strong he'll be. How he'll guide the clan into a new day. So many adventures, just like his parents. So many stories, just like his predecessors. With each passing year, with each little praise, the burdens began to grow. Each day, the boy could feel the weight on his shoulder's getting worse and worse. Heavy in a way that no one could understand, and not a soul could even lift a finger to help him. Suffering in silence, without knowing why. 

    When the martial training began, the praise only continued. So skilled in the art of war, he will be powerful. He will be mighty! A force to be reckoned with. Perhaps a commander of an army, or even a general? No, of course he would be the head of an adventurers guild. Or perhaps the leader of a ragtag party of adventurers? Through the days, he learned how to bring down those larger than him. To push past the obstacles that lay before him. Dez was a prodigy. A master in the arts of combat and self defense. Whether with a blade or with his own two hands, his mentor would always find themselves flat on their backs. The boy learned how to harness his own strength. To enhance it, and to quicken his speed and agility. He learned how to focus his power to rend the targets in front of his face. It was then that the cracks really began to show, and the seeds long planted began to bloom. 

    Anger. 

    Frustration. 

    Confusion. 

    Outbursts of rage, personified by violent war spells. Tearing apart the practice dummies and demolishing walls before him. Even the meditations, the lessons on searching the world for signs of life, only worsened his disposition. The praise was bittersweet. Bedtime stories of heroes, of his great ancestors legacies, turned bitter in his mind. Statues of his predecessors, of the clan progenitor Nel, were daunting figures he could never hope to surpass. All the praise, all the expectations, could never take away the fact that he would never be as great as any of them. Nel, the man who began their clan. A hero who had ended a war. Bravery and selflessness unmatched. Cas, a powerful blend of lightning and earth, who could rend armies in his path. Even his parents were figures far greater than Dez hoped to match. Why, then, did they keep praising him so much? Why, then, did they place the burden of expectations on a child his age? 

    Sleepless nights. Exhausting days. And yet they only gave him smiles. But it wasn't just smiles. Jealousy, too, burdened the hearts of those around him. Fellow children. Even his elder sister. Elyse was once a dotting sister. Taking after her mother and looking after Dez. For a long time, their sibling bond was the only thing that kept Dez happy. Helped him feel like a normal kid. Adventures through the city streets. Through wooded parks and wandering along streams. Those days were fun. They were simple. And then they changed. 

    Just like all the other kids, a bitterness began to set in. First from jealousy. Despite the love their parents showered both of them with, Elyse always thought he got more of their favor. Always said so to his face before pushing him back. During sparring matches, she tried everyway she could to beat Dez down. But despite her age and experience, it never worked. He always came out on top. He always won. As time went on, the bitterness stayed but changed in a sort. As she entered high school, Dez's elder sister instead forced more pressure on his shoulders. Telling him he wasn't living up to his potential. He wasn't going to be good enough. That the boy had to meet their expectations or else they would be disappointed. The stress those words caused him nearly tore the boy apart. 

    Could he be good enough? Would he be good enough? He trained his heart out, tried his heart out, even through the anger and resentment and constant judgement. Through the false and bitter praise, Dez tried. And yet, his sister knew from the beginning that the flowers blooming from the cracks were dark ones. Maybe those words at one point were said with malice? Perhaps she still hated him, and wanted him to crack. To break down. To fail. Dez never truly found out the answer. 

    With Elyse gone, the only other person Dez could take solace in was with his cousin. 

    Ryze was everything Dez was not. Brave. Confident. Stubborn to a fault and outgoing in ways the young man could never math. When Ryze was around, times were fun. Days of adventure. Laughter. Fun. Unlike most of the other children, he couldn't manipulate crystals. Ryze's power came from the storm. Raw, powerful, daunting. Loved by lightning and ferocious in his own way. One day, Ryze asked Dez an innocent question, in a way that all children did. Could Dez control lightning too? Neither could have ever understood the consequences in that moment. 

    Fingertips splayed, Dez focused inward. But just like with his crystals, the effort it took was minimal. The two boys watched as lightning danced across his fingertips. Up his arm, through his air. Eyes glowing with lightning and shocking the ground. That afternoon, the two ran through the fields, firing bolts of static at one another. At the trees and the rocks. Together the duo climbed trees and screamed from the branches that they were the gods of thunder and lightning, and all those below them should bow down. Firing bolts like fireworks, the air was filled with crackles and pops and laughter. Childlike wonder that set Dez's heart ablaze. That was the last time he felt this happy. 

    When they returned in the night, Ryze was quick on his feet and filled with excitement. Telling the adults about 'a cool new trick' Dez learned. His biggest mistake was showing them. At first the silence made him feel proud. He did something others couldn't. But then it lingered. And lingered. And lingered. The gathering faces of shock, of awe, of astonishment. Surrounding him, closing Ryze off, isolating Dez. His parents and all the other adults swarmed him, crying out different cheers and pelting him with so many different things that the boy could barely keep track. The child's head swam. Blue hair nearly blinding him as everyone clambered around him. The heir! The heir! The true Amari heir! The legends were true. The myths were real. Dez was chosen, he had been chosen! Beloved by magic, beloved by the world, beloved by his blood. 

    For the next few years, training was all he knew. 

    Mastering lightning, forming it in his hands. Bursting thunder with each footstep and crackling crystals with electricity. His beautiful crafts glowed with a haunting light that filled the night sky. Mesmerizing. So few of the adults could properly train Dez with his electricity, so he taught himself. Many hated his newfound skill. Hated that their child wouldn't be the next to lead the clan. That they themselves hadn't been loved by magic as much as Dez was. So much bitterness and resentment shown to a child. Mixed with unending, unyielding praise. Bathing him in it, drowning him in it. Suffocating. Strangling. Until all he knew was their words that burned themselves into his mind. The weight of expectation was no longer upon his shoulders, but instead hung around his neck. Pulling the boy down, down, down. Deeper into the depths of fear. Of loathing. Of anger. 

    So many words. So many expectations. Telling him he would be this. He would do that. How great the boy would be. How wonderful of a hero. How brave of an adventurer. And yet not a single person ever asked the boy what he wanted to do. What he wanted to be. After being bombarded so relentlessly, Dez had completely forgotten what that even was. 

    Endless days of training. Split between each affinity. First all three were trained individually. Mastering each magic on their own and ensuring that no matter what, he would be skilled and proficient enough to defend himself with whatever he needed. And barring magic, the boy was trained in flat, raw skill. With fists and blade, the boy bested challengers without magic. Many times he found himself knocked down, struck harder than he was supposed to, dropped to the ground with more force than was necessary. His mentor berated the boy and yelled at him to do better. Being defeated so easily was unbecoming of the clan heir. If he was going to go out into the world and journey, or be a grand hero like his parents wanted him to be, then he could not let himself be defeated.

    Or else he would die. 

    Fear of Death was a powerful motivator. And the final nail in the coffin. 

    Even when beaten bloody, the boy never let up. He hurt many of the other kids. But that was fine, the other kids hurt him first. He wasn't going to be the one that died. He mastered combined magics, hybridized lightning with crystal. Refined it. Made it his own. Dez wore the armor he created with pride. Shaped in to hide his own face from every prying eye around him. He wasn't going to die.

    In one on one combat, or even when facing groups, Dez became undefeated. He wasn't going to die. The boy's mentor praised him. Ruffled his blue hair. Pat him on the back. Called him strong. He was the strongest. He was the best. When he went out into the world, he wouldn't die. Dez would survive. The blue haired boy would do...

    He would do...

    What would he do? So long had his future been planned out for him. So long had they told him exactly what his dream were, that Dez didn't even know what he wanted himself. He was scared of death. Of dying. Of being bested. But why would he put himself in that situation in the first place? Just because someone told him to? Because he was told his entire life that it was his destiny? 

    But why? 

    Surrounded by those he defeated and sat on a pedestal he never wanted to be upon, Dez found himself lost. Confused. Afraid. For so long he was covered in praise and had everything drawn out ahead, but not once did anyone stop to ask his opinion. And in that moment, the boy didn't even know who he was. Or who he wanted to be. 

    He ran from the clan. Instead taking shelter in his family's home. The boy just needed time, right? Dez was sixteen, and it wasn't like teens ever knew what they wanted. Right? It wasn't as though training so hard and for so long destroyed any chance at a social life in his schools. Sheltered in place and filled with uncertainty, the young man did the only thing he knew how to do. He trained. With thunder and fury, the boy crashed into the training dummies again and again. Like crashing into the wall around his mind. Searching for a way to break through. To burst out. To punch free of the box those around Dez put him into. But no matter how many times he slammed into the wall, nothing cracked. Nothing bent or broke. 

    Perhaps meditation? Harnessing the electricity in his soul and the focus he honed in his mind. Hours were spent in mediation. Each day, after studying in classes, he took to meditation. No answers came to him. Only a dark void that covered his mind and clouded his thoughts. Uncertainty. Fear. Loneliness. For so long, the blue-haired boy's focus was on training and studying. His grades were passable, but he had no friends to speak of. Isolated from everyone, either by accident or on purpose. And when he finally learned he had no clue what he was training for, it was already too late to stop. Too late to go back. His years of highschool had been wasted, and opinions of him already laid set in stone. 

    'That Amari boy. So quiet. So stern. He's strong, supposedly. The heir to the Amari family. But he never talks to anyone. Never even looks at us. Does he know we exist?' Dez wished he had reached out. Cried out and told them he saw them. That he wanted to find someone to be friends with. That the boy didn't want to be alone. 

    Too late. 

    Was it his own fault? Or was it the fault of his family. With no other places to turn to, Dez turns to art. To literature. The stories in books gave him some comfort. Drawing the ideas in his mind gave him solace. Creation, like with the gems that were born from his own skin. Instead, new art was born from his hands. And it made him happy. He daydreamed. He let his mind wander. To places far away. Lands no one roamed. To castles guarded by beasts, and to friends and lovers that only existed on paper. 

    There was no point in trying to be an adventurer. After all the expectations put on his shoulders, there was no way Dez was ever going to be capable of meeting them. The greatest hero ever? No way. Not in a million years. How could a kid who can't even make friends be expected to save the world? Dez couldn't even save himself. Instead, the boy worked odd jobs afterschool. Convenience stores, a forge. Just making enough to get by on his own without support from his parents. At night, when no one was around, the young man vented his stress by training. Surrounded himself with glowing flowers made of crystal. Their blue hue painted the walls around him in their beautiful light, while glass-like roots crawled around the ground. By morning these creations were gone, but the memories at night gave the boy some semblance of peace. A moment of calm when he could not find any. 

    His parents, for their part, gave up trying to force him to follow their path. He knew they were disappointed, and that hurt. It hurt more than anything. After years of being showered with praise, the looks on their faces shattered the poor boy's heart. But they let him be, and went off to find their next adventure. 

    Dez's older sister, however, was not that forgiving. After making a career in the military, Elyse was furious that Dez had given up on his dreams. Dreams the boy never actually had. Dreams that were forced upon him from a young age. Constantly the two bickered back and forth. Always the girl called him names. Told him to his face how much of a disappointment he was. That he should be doing better with himself. He was the strongest, the best, the rightful heir. And the young man should be out in the field just like his parents, seeing the world. So many dangers left alone. So many people in need of a hero. And Dez needed to be that hero.

    Always the same argument. Never changing. Never wavering. Sometimes more aggressive. Sometimes more gentle to start, then ramped up into screaming matches. Dez grew to resent his sister. So forceful on him with other peoples wishes. So what if the world was dangerous? His sister was a prodigy in the military. She could lead them to victories. Dez was one, lonely boy. Not an army. Not a superhero. Not a legend. He wasn't Nel. He wasn't Cas. He wasn't his parents. He wasn't Elyse. Everyone expected everything out of the boy, as though he was destined to become a new god. It bothered him and frustrated him and sent him spiraling down a pit of depression he couldn't hope to crawl out of. 

    Each screaming match ended the same. No progress made. Neither budged. Both failed to see the others side. Elyse always shook her head and walked away. Not once did Dez try to stop her or give a rebuttal. By that point, there was no reason for it. After so long, the siblings stopped seeing eye to eye. Stopped being able to be in the same room as one another. Dez missed his elder sister. Missed being able to spend time with her and go on little adventures in the park like when they both were children. But now, the only thing left that the two shared was a bitter resentment. 

    Hers of jealousy and disappointment. His out of animosity and loathing. 

    It was a shame. 

    Ryze, for his part, did his best to still visit when he could, but things weren't the same. While Dez had floundered and struggled to find his purpose, to find his drive, Ryze found his way. A skilled bounty hunter, roaming the wilds and going to different villages and cities to look for whoever needed help. Whatever needed killing. The young mage did his best to hold a conversation with him, and Ryze did truly care for his cousin, but it was tough. The man blamed himself for Dez's fate. Unfortunately, he wasn't the one at fault. 

    They trained together, still kept one another's skills sharp. Ryze even did his best to teach Dez new spells. How to harness lightning in the palm of his hand and how to throw it towards his targets. It was a nice gesture, and a great trick. Still, the thought lingered of when, if ever, would he ever use it? Perhaps lightning baseball, or as a party trick, but the actual purpose for combat was far removed from Dez's mind. 

    In his isolation, fear settled in quickly. Anxieties that had long festered within his heart rose out of him. He wasn't able to be at peace. In his dreams he found himself falling, falling deeper into a pit. nothing was a solace. By that point, training was just a pleasantry. Keeping his skills sharp was more a matter of giving him something to do. Some small way to vent his frustration and his rage. Dez was not a spiteful person. He was not a person who used rage to his advantage. The young man was quiet. Withdrawn. Polite to a fault. But that didn't mean he was incapable of feeling such emotions as anger. 

    While many people had outside targets for their frustration, Dez's ire was directed solely towards himself. Many nights spent exploding outwards in bursts of electricity, or covering the walls with his crystals. No guidance. No direction. Eighteen years old, and the most the young man had done was bounce from job to job without any great success. With little else to do, it was easier to venture into the Grand Library and bury his mind and his woes in the stories there. Heroes greater than him. Masters of their own fate. It was a nice comfort to picture himself in their shoes, but the constant tugging at the back of his mind halted any chance of acting on it. The fear of going out alone. Of not being good enough. Of dying. Of failing. So much weight around his neck that he could no longer see the surface from beneath the waves. Deeper he sank, down, down into the abyss of his own mind. 

    Alone. Afraid. A forgettable face in a crowd of hundreds of braver, wiser souls. 

    For some reason, the Librarian reached out to him. The two conversed many times, different stories and books and interests, but this conversation instead was an offer of work. Despite everything, the offer was the first bit of genuine happiness that the young man had felt in a long while. It wasn't much, but compared to the other jobs he'd had, it was much calmer. Much more suited to his reserved personality. The customers were nice, and he got to enjoy as much reading as he could ever desire. And when adventurers and treasure hunters arrived with tomes and scrolls they discovered and translated, Dez was always the first one asking to read them. 

    After all he'd delt with, life began to look up. Despite the new found positivity, however, that bitter, nagging feeling still persisted. A feeling that he was wasting his life. That he wasn't living to his full potential. What dreams did he have? What person did he want to become?

    What did he want to do with his life?

    And now, at the age of nineteen, he still had no idea. Nineteen years he'd been through this. Nineteen years of confusion and pressure placed upon his shoulders. As he sat in the family's training room, Dez still didn't know who he was or who he wanted to be. Shimmering blue crystals floated around him, drifting in a slow, meandering orbit. A touch of electricity sparked one to life, causing it to burn bright and douse its trail in glowing blue. The young man sighed, staring off in a dead gaze towards a pile of ruined training dummies. Eventually, the floor opened, and the fragments dropped down. The magic upon them already set to work rebuilding the training pieces underneath the floorboards. Completely isolated from Dez. 

    The young man stood, crystal sword blooming bright in his right hand. Sweat matted his hair down against his head. Everything felt so tiring. So stressful. So painful. He wished that someone would come to him again. To give him the guidance he lost. A neutral party, free of the responsibility all the adults in his life pressured onto him. Someone who only saw him, and not the long lineage he came from. Even the Librarian, when talking about magical potential, still looked for a way to train Dez into a successor. Something that the young man simply could not agree to. The thought was appreciated, in a way. 

    Four dummies popped from the floor, and in a flash, the young man zipped from one to the other, leaving behind him a glowing trail of lightning. The first three cleaved cleanly. As for the last, it unfortunately received a little more vitriol than the others. Dez's rending blow shredded through it in a violent manner, splintering its material and cracking what ever remained. Heavy breaths racked the boy's chest. Shoulders hefted up and down. He couldn't deny what everyone said. He had skill, he had talent. A lifetime of training certainly benefitted him in that manner. But the real question was what he should do with it. 

    Perhaps he could enter tournaments. But, no, that was perhaps a bit too flashy. Too competitive for his liking. With how bad his luck was, there was even a good chance that the goddess of victory would show up. Which was always a fun thing to be afraid about. The boy didn't follow any gods, and then all of the sudden one shows up to kick his ass? No thanks. 

    Sinking down, the four dummies were replaced. Crystals cracked and popped on the surface of Dez's skin. Needle-sharp, the young man hurled his arm outwards sending forth a swirling storm of crystal dart. With a huff, he pulled inwards, fists clenched, and then outstretched as electricity danced on his finger tips. The crystal storm mixed with a fierce array of lightning. Each bolt bounced from one crystal node to the other. Crackling, snapping, and popping, the violent storm shredded and burned the dummies, leaving none standing. It was disorienting. Having so much power. In all the stories, the heroes in his position actually did something with it. Went on to save the world with confidence and a whole lot of grit and guts. 

    Dez barely had the confidence to talk to new people outside of work. 

    As the storm subsided, the blue haired mage sighed and wandered his way back. Boots thumped the wooded surface. So much time and effort when into creating this home. Would Dez ever have enough willpower to do something similar? So many older and wiser people saw him and told him what he could be. What he should be. It hurt his heart. After all this time, why? Why couldn't he figure it all out himself? A mass of electricity gathered tightly bound in the palm of Dez's hand. 

    Behind him, yet another dummy popped from the floor. With a shout, the young man spun and hurled a spear of lightning towards- no, through the dummy with a resounding crack. The boy grit his teeth, tensed... then quietly let it all roll off of himself. Everything he was doing. Every bit of pain, he caused himself. If I really cared so much, then maybe I should have just listened to Elyse. Right now I'm just wasting time and breath. No matter how many little victories, Dez's life was still in a bitter spot. Wishing that things could have been different. Could have turned out different. 

    Cracking and popping, the burning dummy collapsed to the ground. Dez didn't stay to watch. As the broken pieces dropped once more into the floor, Dez turned his back on the room. And quietly shut the door behind him. 

Final Word Count: 4455/4400

[swiftyuki]

Approved